Absence is the initial feeling, as I slowly turn to my
left; where you once sat. The wind echoes melodies, as if
enchanting whispers sang a riff through this rickety old bench; like
xylophone bars being tickled with a dandilion seed mallet.
Jasimine petals dance the tango, through entwined nobbly
arches of the dusty pink blossom tree branches. The soft
vibration causing a gentle whistle, as the cocky, confident,
invasive woodpecker, starts his dramatic morning debut drum
solo. Closing my eyes, I turn to my left... Smile; Thank you!